


Strange Love

by Clonesy



Series: Nails For Breakfast, Tacks For Snacks [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Although not really high school, Clexa, F/F, Laser Tag, date, they're just high school age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clonesy/pseuds/Clonesy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a tough, turf war torn city, finding ideal date locations can be difficult. Fortunately, there is one place Clarke and Lexa can be safe. It’s a little ridiculous, and perhaps slightly demeaning to who they are (They are, after all, leaders of two, very much at war school gangs), but hey – Who ever said Laser Tag can’t be thrilling?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Love

        

 

Pocketing her phone, Clarke smirks. She truly doesn’t deserve Lexa sometimes: the amount of occasions that she’s been late for dates and yet here they are four months later, still together despite what divides them.

It hadn't taken Clarke by surprise, really, since life usually had a way of _not quite_ working out for her. Between school turf wars, the weight of a dead friend or two on her shoulders, and a knack for finding herself in every dramatic situation no matter how hard she tries to fix or avoid it, Clarke feels about as lucky as every shot-dead fictional gay character from the TV shows Lexa watches. Which, suffice to say, is not very lucky at all.

Lexa is an evident exception to her rotten luck. Lexa is... Different: _supposed_ to be a problem; _supposed_ to be the ‘enemy’, but the flutter in Clarke’s stomach when she hears her name or sees her face has consequently made Lexa something very different.

Speaking of which-

Clarke spots Lexa down the road, all dark clothing and cascading, tousled hair. She’s facing away from Clarke’s direction, arms crossed behind her back in her usual tense stance. Although, it does seem tenser than normal and Clarke can only blame it on her lateness. It makes guilt pang in the depth of her stomach. In conjunction with her usual butterflies about seeing Lexa, it makes for a deadly combo.

She starts a gentle jog, not wanting to keep Lexa waiting any more but then stops again when her phone vibrates. Clarke pulls it out from her pocket, exasperated, and frowns.

_Blake the 1 st, 1:27pm: We’re not done talking. _

Clarke sighs.  
  
_Of course_ it’s Bellamy.

She puts her phone away and continues jogging: a reply can wait. Bellamy is not ruining this again with his anti-Polis High mantra. Not again.

It takes a moment, but Clarke reaches their meeting place. At the sound of Clarke’s feet coming to a stop, Lexa turns her head to side eye her. Clarke knows she shouldn’t find such a simple thing so attractive, but Lexa’s jawline could cut a man, move a mountain, and stop a war –

(…well, maybe not the last one, considering the current state of their schools' relationship. Regardless, it’s a pretty great jawline, Clarke thinks. )

Whatever nonsense Bellamy is even trying to attempt is quickly forgotten, and Clarke finds her mouth suddenly dry.

“Finally decided to show up, hm?” Lexa drawls.

Despite the unamused tone to her voice, there’s an amused glimmer in her eyes that betrays it. Clarke rolls her eyes in response and simply approaches, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s waist and cuddling into her back. She mumbles a soft apology against Lexa’s shoulder and plants a gentle kiss to the small area of exposed skin where Lexa’s shirt collar had shifted.  
  
Though on the inside she’s melting, Lexa keeps up the act, refusing to react. “You could’ve been dead. I almost bought a mourning candle.”  
  
Clarke replies dryly with “You have enough candles, Lexa. Your bedroom is the epitome of a fire hazard.”  
  
Lexa simply hums a noncommittal reply and wriggles so Clarke lets her free. She turns around and smiles, placing her hands either side of Clarke’s jaw and pulling her close. They kiss briefly and linger for a second, foreheads touching and noses brushing one another.

The moment of intimacy is enough to satiate them for the time being. They break apart after Lexa’s boops their noses together. The smile it brings to Clarke’s face lights a fire in Lexa’s chest and in this moment, right now, she feels content: it’s one of very few content moments she’s had recently. That may sound dramatic, but it’s been over a week since they’ve seen each other and, by the Gods, it’s been torturous. Standing on opposite sides of a war is difficult to manage; Lexa can’t help but miss her.

“I missed you too.” Clarke says with a grin, relishing the taste of Lexa’s lips and the ghost feeling of where their noses brushed. The nose boop gesture was one made when Lexa found it harder to speak about her feelings; it’s meaning lingering even today. It says “I’m glad you’re here; I’m glad you’re mine; I missed you”.

Clarke loves the nose boop.

Finally taking a look of the Laser Tag building they’re outside, Clarke’s sentiments are quickly swapped for a momentary suspicion.

“Are you sure this is a safe place for us to go on a date?” she asks quietly.

Lexa strokes the pad of her thumb across Clarke’s cheek, with a soft and reassuring smile. “I wouldn't have thought to come here without Titus' recommendation. If I find he has made a similar suggestion, he will pay rather dearly for it."  
  
“How will he pay, great commander?” Clarke asks, quirking an eyebrow. She uses the nickname teasingly, knowing full well that Lexa actually quite likes it; knowing full well the _effect_ it has on her.

Lexa rather forcibly steels her gaze.

“The flamekeeper can’t keep his flames if his stock goes missing.”

Clarke chuckles softly, “You’re so dramatic, babe.”

Lexa breaks the persona, letting her doting eyes fall upon Clarke once more. She even allows a smirk to play her lips.

“This is war, Clarke.” She says, mock serious.

 “I know.” Clarke’s eye-roll is displaced by the smile she returns a second later. “And to think we’re here regardless.”

Lexa nods, and they kiss again.

* * *

 

Inside the Laser Tag building is decidedly nicer than they had both expected. A small arcade adjoins the room where people wait for their game to start, as does a small café. The somewhat dark lighting is perfect coverage should they spot someone, but the place is deserted, save for a small group of boys who appear a tad younger and whom watch them enter with curious eyes.

Hands joined, Clarke and Lexa walk proudly past them to the counter. The staff member there –identified as ‘Layne’ according to her nametag- smiles kindly.  
“Well well well, it’s not often we get newbies here.” She says. She sounds welcoming, which neither Clarke nor Lexa seem surprised at. If those boys are the only regular customers, they’d likely love every new person who showed up too.

Lexa clears her throat. “I’m Lexa and this is my-“

The hesitance comes sudden, like a habit. Her jawline clenches and relaxes a few times, lips playing over phrasing she struggles to find. It feels so long since she and Clarke have had a moment alone, had a moment where they don’t have to pretend to be nothing to one another. Suddenly trusting someone with information on their relationship seems misguided, stupid almost.

Lexa sets her jaw, swallows the anxiety.

_We’re not in the streets. We are safe._

_“-_ This is my girlfriend, Clarke.”

Layne doesn’t even seem to notice the numerous emotions that run through the patron opposite her in only a matter of seconds; if she does, she plays it off well.

She nods, grinning. “Fellow queers, huh? I like you two already. What’re you here for? Arcade coupons or laser tag?”

“Laser tag. Two games.” Clarke answers.

Layne replies with a hum and turns to a computer. Clarke takes this time to turn to Lexa and press a kiss to her cheek in a bid to keep that grumpy, untrusting expression off her girlfriend’s face. It does the job, making Lexa jump from her stoic, thoughtful gaze into a soft smile.

“Relax, Lex. This is probably the safest place for a date we’ve ever been.” Clarke whispers. Lexa lets out a breathy exhale of amusement because, okay, Clarke is right; Titus was right. There’s no need to worry.

By this point, Layne has turned back and notices of how intense the couple before her are, speaking in soft whispers and appearing wary of everything. She doesn’t know the story, but she’s intrigued nonetheless. She’s curious how this mismatched couple – one blonde like day and one dark haired like night – found themselves here, where they look so out of place.  
  
Unfortunately, she’s a laser tag attendant and not a poet, so she shrugs it off, rings up their two game and lets them go about their business.

She ushers them into the laser pack room and tells them to ‘pick one they like’. They’re all the same, but it tickles her to watch people inspect the packs before choosing. The dark haired one – _Lexa, was it?_ \- evidently the strategist, as she takes great care in it. The blonde one simply grabs the closest.

Watching them tug on their laser packs from an observation window, Layne notices a tenderness exhibited from them both as they help one another: an affection not shown when they were around her. It’s quite cute actually, that these two rough looking kids are probably super sappy when they think no one can see.

However, once the packs are on, there’s a change. An exchanging of challenging smirks and assumed dirt talk. The blonde one curls a finger around the strap of Lexa’s laser pack and pulls her in for a kiss. Layne is quick to avert her eyes and instead focuses on setting up the game to start. 

The younger boys who had seen both Clarke and Lexa enter saunter over to the desk, money in hand to pay for their own games, but Layne shakes her head at them. They all groan in unison.

A Female/Female couple who kiss in the dark when they think no one is looking? Not exactly the ideal match up for a game with immature teenage boys.

“Sorry boys,” Layne says, “this game is _strictly_ private.”

She turns back to Lexa and Clarke, gives them a nod and they go into the back room. Layne queues up the flashy game countdown and all the various lights, music and smoke machines. She presses a few keys, takes a seat and lets the computer work its magic.

_This is going to be interesting_

 

* * *

 

In the arena, Clarke and Lexa map their surroundings. For the back room of a small industrial building, it’s rather impressive: fake walls create a multitude of paths, with objects such as crates and barrels strategically placed; various ramps lead to a second level and the whole aesthetic is completed with splatters of neon paint. The lighting is dark; perfect for stealth.

Clarke rather dumbly gets caught up in the artistry of the paint ( _It’s all glowing and pretty_ ) and takes somewhat less notice than Lexa does in finding ways around the place. When the countdown starts, signifying 10 seconds until the game begins, Lexa (having gone full ‘commander’ mode) gives a dignified “Aha!” on the heel of a plan formed in her head and runs off around a corner.

“Hey!” Clarke calls out. She pulls out the comically sized laser gun from its holster and holds it defensively. She takes a few steps towards where her girlfriend headed, “Lexa, get back here!”

From her pocket, Clarke’s phone buzzes. She checks it hastily.

_Lexa <3, 1:36pm: This is war _

A buzzer sounds.

Clarke jumps, her phone clattering to the floor.

The arena is suddenly filled with thrumming, bass heavy music, signifying the game has begun. With a string of curse words, Clarke ducks down, grabs her phone and dashes to the nearest barrel. Her heart races with adrenaline and she’s surprised, because who the hell would think that laser tag – of all things – would be thrilling.

She grins, laughing at herself.

 _Lexa wants a war?_ _She’s got one._

Giving her best impression of what she thinks a badass would look like, Clarke springs up and vaults over the barrel, laser gun armed at the ready for when she lands. She aims: left then right.

Then suddenly:

_Pew!_

1 life point down.

_Pew!_

2 life points down.

 _Pew_!

3 life points down and her pack is temporarily disabled.

“What the hell?”  Clarke cries. Her laser pack lets out an obnoxious wailing as it ‘recharges’ her next life and she stares at it hopelessly for a second. 40 seconds into a game and she’s already one life down. How did Lexa even manage that? Clarke knows her girlfriend to have skills with combat, but accurate aiming with a laser gun that’s probably older than they are? It seems almost impossible. Clarke doesn’t hold her doubts though – Lexa doing the impossible is a common occurrence.

Clarke starts scouting every direction, searching for Lexa with a determined vigour.

Unfortunately, she’s nowhere to be seen.

Her phone buzzes again.

_Lexa <3, 1:38pm: Got you. _

Clarke shoves the device back into her pocket with a huff. She runs down one of the paths and thankfully, her laser pack powers back up only a moment later. She can only imagine Lexa’s victorious grin as she so easily plucked 3 points from her. Despite the fact it means she’s now losing, it at least assures her that Lexa’s having fun. Hell, she’s having fun too.

There’s only one problem…Clarke likes winning.

Repositioning her gun to cover the front portion of her pack, she continues down the enclosed path until she has to choose left or right. The heavy music that continues to play drowns out her thoughts and makes it hard to think, but she picks right.

Only, she didn’t know that was a mistake.

 _Pew_!

1 life point down.

“Motherfuck-“

_Pew!_

2 life points down.

Clarke pivots a full 180 and eyes Lexa at the other end of the corridor, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her expression is stoic but her eyes are ablaze with impulse, and she has her laser gun pointed at Clarke. She offers a challenging smile; her finger quivers on the trigger. Clarke sees her shoot, but miraculously it misses and Lexa is left defenceless for a few precious second as her gun ‘reloads’.

In the split second before Lexa runs off again, Clarke pulls up her own blaster, fires 4 shots in rapid succession and makes her own break for it, heading towards one of the upper sections. She doesn’t know if any of her shots hit but she feels good - excited and giggly.

Back downstairs, Lexa backs up against a wall and eyes her blaster’s LCD screen. 2 life points down. _2 of them! Clarke didn’t even aim!_

Lexa doesn’t even want to admit she’s having fun, let alone that she cares Clarke almost took one of her lives. Alas, here she is, clutching a plastic, oversized gun to her chest and seriously plotting how to ‘kill’ her girlfriend. The thought is only furtherly amusing considering the fact that gunfights are a staple of a good gang fight and were, thus far, the one thing they’d both managed to avoid.

 _How ironic_.

Lexa shakes her head at herself, and lets the music with its relentless bassline overtake her thoughts. Running in time to the beat, she tracks the direction she thought she heard Clarke’s heavy footsteps go.

Lexa turns around in circles as she walks. The arena is a lot bigger than she first thought; it's far too big for only two people to play in. Her fingers twitch over the trigger, but Clarke isn’t here. There’s no sound except the music. There's no movement except her own.

But then:

A crash.

Followed by swearing, followed by more footsteps.

Lexa runs towards it, dashing around a corner and shooting blindly.

_Pew!_

Miss.

_Pew!_

Miss.

_Pew!_

Miss.

When she spots Clarke from a doorway that leads into a tiny side room, Lexa curses herself for wasting three shots on a non-existent target. Still, at least she’s got a couple more before a reload and a quicker trigger finger than Clarke. This’ll be an easy win.

She chases after her girlfriend, gleeful in her upcoming victory at claiming a second set of life points. However, she is halted when she reaches the room.

What she meets is entirely unexpected.

Clarke is kneeling on the floor, laser pack partially undone. The gun in Clarke’s right hand, which Lexa guesses can only be fragile at best (the plastic seems to be cracking from age and the LCD screen is scratched to high heaven), is on the receiving end of some rather forceful bashes from her left. In the darkness, Lexa can only guess what is happening, until Clarke releases an outburst of curses:

“Piece of shit- god damn it. Work!” she hisses.

Lexa holsters her gun, abandoning her victory plan. She approaches quickly, kneeling at Clarke’s side.

“Clarke.” She says, concern lacing in her words, “What happened?”

Dejectedly, Clarke stops hitting the blaster and sighs.

“It broke when I fell over the barrels in the other room.”

Lexa goes to take it, but Clarke holds it away from her. Though she’s clearly still upset at breaking the item, there’s a hint of stubborn playfulness to be found and she quips “Nuh-uh, if it comes back to life, I’m not letting you have it.”

“How immature, Clarke.”  Lexa teases.

Clarke eyes her challengingly.

“How about this for immature?”

Clarke drops her blaster to the ground and grabs at Lexa’s neck to pull her into a searing kiss. Despite it being completely unexpected, Lexa melts into it, grabbing at Clarke's shoulder to pull her closer. Shrouded in the darkness of the arena, with only the music to fill the air besides the sound of their adrenaline rushed heartbeats, there comes a kind of intoxication. A need to kiss hungrily with tongues colliding and barely a pause for breath. Lexa suspects that CCTV may give away this minor side track to Layne but she ignores the thought, instead focusing on the contours of Clarke’s lips and the shuddering exhale that escapes when Clarke moves to trail kisses along her jawline. Clarke is talented in teasing, and the nibbles at Lexa’s earlobe only further prove it.

“Hey, Lexa.” She whispers. Her breath is hot on Lexa’s neck.

Lexa swallows hard to control herself; she manages a strangled hum in response.

“I have something to tell you.”

Clarke takes Lexa’s lack of reply as an insistence to continue. She drags it out, kisses down Lexa’s neck, grazes her teeth gently across Lexa’s pale skin.

Every second is agony. Beautiful, _beautiful_ agony _._

Clarke returns to Lexa’s lips and kisses her more gently.

And then, when she thinks she has Lexa at the tensest she can be, she puts her lips to Lexa’s ear once more.

Lexa holds her breath. She makes not a single sound.

“Got you.”                  

In the time it takes for Lexa to even realise what’s happening, a full round of lasers is fired into her pack. Clarke is standing, grinning at her.

Lexa looks up at her from the floor, dumbfounded. _Impressed_ , but definitely dumbfounded.

Her pack starts to wail, a testament to the game Clarke has just played. 

Clarke simply clicks her tongue.

“I only did what I had to.” She says, smirking.

Lexa has only a few seconds before her pack reboots, but she doesn’t find it in her to challenge Clarke. No, from that display of cunning brilliance and sultry, seductive misdirection, Lexa finds herself only more thrilled, and just a little bit hot under the collar.

Lexa keeps staring at her, still kneeling, still breathing heavy. Her pack comes back to life and Clarke shoots it again, taking another life. She’s now in the lead.

“You’re making this easy for me, commander.” Clarke comments, teasing again.

_Commander._

Oh, she did _**not** _ use that nickname.

Lexa jumps to her feet.

“Run.”

Clarke grins at the challenge. Wordlessly, she breaks into a sprint, cascading through the doorway they both entered by.

Lexa follows. She keeps up with ease, so Clarke starts dashing around corners, shooting when she thinks she has the upper hand; Lexa shoots back.

Any strategy truly falls to shit. 

They play fair though, stalking less and shooting more. Oh, and they run, _a lot_. The dramatic boom of the electronic music has no fight against their shrieks and triumphant cackles and laughter. At times they meet in the middle, exchange kisses before jumping back and having a stand-off. They play as if they’re the type of kids who have done this before; the type of kids they saw outside in the lobby. It’s fun: the most fun they’ve had together since…well, _forever_. 

The game time of the first melds into the second and before they know it, there’s a 2 minute warning that their time is up. Whoever’s winning is knowledge lost 150 badly aimed shots ago. It doesn’t matter; it never really did.

When the game does end, they exit the back room, sweaty and worn out. They help each other out of their laser gun packs and walk out into the lobby. Layne watches them with a knowing smile.

“Have fun?” She asks.

Clarke smirks, “You could say that.”

Layne nods, then turns back to her work. Lexa slips her hand into Clarke’s and makes a gentle tug towards the door. Though she’s still reeling from excitement, she needs the feel of cold air on her face, lest she actually wants her eyeliner to smudge into war paint. Although, according to Clarke it’s totally a look she “could rock.” But she’s less convinced.

As they walk out, Clarke pulls out her phone and checks the time.

It’s not even _that_ late.

Clarke bites her lip, turning to Lexa with glint in her eye.

“You know…” She drawls, “we still have time for another game.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Silent-Wordsmith for Beta-ing this - You're the MVP :) 
> 
> If you have any feedback or any suggestions for other ideas within this universe, feel free to leave a comment!


End file.
